


Across Dead Seas

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto, pirates of the
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betrayal, M/M, Multi, Mutiny, Piracy, Violence, sort of undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Madara is a renowned pirate, and is as such constantly butting heads with Konoha, the Fire Seas resident Navy. He and Hashirama have been pushed apart by the death of Tobirama at the Uchiha's hands. When his old friend manages to catch him, Madara escapes- only to catch a glimpse of a feared ghost in the brewing storm.





	1. Self Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raendown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/gifts).



> So I was watching Pirates of the Caribbean, and inspiration struck. I really wish it would stop doing that, but I can't let this pass me by. I think Raendown will enjoy this, it's her ship after all.

Uchiha Madara has been called a great many things. Unkind, unsavoury and -in his opinion anyway- undeserved things; “Scoundrel” and “Scallywag”. Oh and “Thief”. “Murderer” occasionally rears its head. It’s all a load of steaming bloody bullshit, he is a man of “Self Service” -no matter that Izuna says that makes him sound like he spends his time jerking off. Madara is of the opinion that that is exactly what his Little Shit of a Brother spends his days doing, so he can go fuck himself. And anyway, the technical term is “Pirate”.

Because when Madara does something, he does it properly, he is actually “Captain Madara Uchiha”. Not that Izuna calls him that. That is, however what is written on the Document of Execution that Hashirama Senju is waving in his face. Or it should be, if it’s survived being showered in the mans tears. The list of his ‘crimes’ has made the parchment longer than his arm- he’s rather proud of that. That hat with the feathers really doesn’t suit his childhood friend, who is now Captain of the Hokage -what an idiotic name- and Admiral of Konoha’s fleet in the Fire Sea.

“Madara please, for old times sake, have your crew surrender the Susanoo into our care. Aren’t we friends?! I promise to help you in whatever way I can when we make port, you have my word.”

“I trust your word as much as I trust your fashion sense. I see they’ve at least used the uniform to get rid of those god awful pinstripes. Where’s that skinny white eel you call brother now? Not returned from hell to relieve me of my head yet, has he now.”

“Don’t change the subject. Please, old friend, have your crew-”

There’s a loud bang, and a cannon ball splinters the windows of the captains cabin, hurtles past Madara’s head and blows the door right out the frame. “I do believe that’s for me.” The Uchiha leaves the shocked Senju a parting pat farewell, sprints out of the doorway and onto the deck, before he grabs a dangling rope and swings to freedom.

 

Madara lands with an ungraceful splash, and swims for where he can see the black hull of the Susanoo among flashes of cannon fire. He’s somewhat glad for his unruly mane of inky hair, it makes for a fantastic disguise in dark water. He comes up coughing and spluttering -cosmically grateful that the Fire Sea is almost as warm as bath water. Madara draws himself up the ladder, a little out of breath when he reaches the top, and is met with a pale hand. 

Izuna turns that weasely little grin on him and asks “How was tea?” Madara sneers at the little brat, huffs, and bats his hand away. The eldest Uchiha heaves himself onto the landing and wheezes like a half drowned gull; “Fuck off Izuna, you weedy little shit.” His prat of a brother just laughs at him before turning to bark orders at the crew, allowing his elder some time and space to collect himself.

Madara plods up the stairs, sketching loving caresses on the ebony of the rail. He’d worked -plundered- hard to earn -commandeer- this ship. He lays gloved hands on the wheel, takes a peek at his compass and turns his head to regard the his old friends’ ship. The Hokage is heavier than the Susanoo, a galleon weighed down by shot and cannon and powder. Madara will outrun them easily, but Konoha is everywhere. It will be only a matter of time before their paths cross again- the Uchiha unwilling to move away from trade routes bearing fat merchant ships, the Senju unwilling to leave off his pursuit.

 

Madara is drawn from musings of the absent Senju brother- panic and fear pulling pupils wide in murky water and Izuna’s sly laughter- by his brothers hand on his shoulder. “Where to Nii-san?” Madara peaks at his last brother past a wet fringe and purses his lips. Dark eyes roam the horizon and narrow. “Away from here. We can lose Hashirama without problem, but I don’t like the look of those clouds.” Izuna turns to follow Madara’s gaze and inspects the deep black that blots out the stars. His brother frowns and scowls, nodding and moving off as he passes orders to the crew.

Leather creaks against wood as Madara rubs the spokes in consideration. He huffs and tilts his head, turns the rudder and the rigging snaps taught as the schooners deep indigo sails catch the breeze. Waves slap against the bow and his crew laugh a little at the spray of the sea in their faces. The storm booms behind them and the wind whips Madara’s hair about his face. The Uchiha turns aft and he can see the Hokage against a backdrop of clouds. Lightning flashes, the sky turns violet and Madara swears he sees… something. “Izuna!” His brother scrambles up to stand at his side. “Nii-san?” He bumps their shoulders together and jerks his chin toward the storm. They squint and lean forward in tandem, holding baited breath. Another flash of light and- “What in the fucking hell… Is that- is that a ship? Who is that?” Madara growls and fishes his telescope from his belt and brings it to his eye. He guides it until canvas flutters in his field of view.

 

It’s dark, and their mystery third party has absolutely no lit lanterns. Madara brings the bow into view, and catches on a silhouette standing atop the jagged figurehead . A bolt catches the mizzen mast, and white and red flashes. He pans up toward their face, squinting in the dark- and suddenly a single wine red eye fills his field of vision. Madara drops the spyglass with a loud -and very propper and ladylike- shriek.

The esteemed Captain stumbles backwards into the wheel. His hands shake when they press leather gloves against his heart, and Izuna grasps his face. “Nii-san? Nii-san what’s wrong? What’d you see, who are they?” Madara shakes his head wildly, bats his siblings paws from his mug and turns to grip the wheel. Maybe if he ignores the dead man, then he will go away.

He’s must’ve drank too much sea water, or maybe his lack of sleep is catching up to him- because Senju Tobirama is dead. Madara had stood alongside Izuna and watched Hashirama’s wraith of a brother sink into the deep blue, strapped to the barrel of a cannon. His last surviving brother flutters madly about him, but Madara waves him off.

Thunder booms like the rumbling laughter of a heathen god, and he swears he’s never touching Hashirama’s auspicious blends of exotic teas ever again. Isn’t hibiscus also used as a poison? He could swear he read that somewhere.

“Nii-san? What the hell has gotten into you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fucking fuck off Izuna. Go be pretty somewhere else. Where’s Kagami, go entertain him.”

“Where are we going you salty ass? For fuck’s sake, what did you see?”

“I am going to get us the fuck out of here, as far away from that pale demon as possible.”

 

On the Hokage, Hashirama gazes out through broken glass at his friends departing ship. A crack of lightning, a deep boom of thunder- and he’s no longer alone. “Keep and eye on him, I want to know where he goes.” There’s a gurgle and a splash, and he knows he’s been heard.


	2. A Talk and an Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara is the worst kind of fucked.

Madara isn’t sure what wakes him. He wakes alone in his cabin, and he can hear the snorting and grunting of his crew- mostly Shisui and Izuna actually- they snore something terrible. He slowly sits upright, frown wrinkling his brow. A slow breath calms his racing heart, and he clambers out of his bunk. Madara pulls his leather boots on, and listens for a moment. Other than the noises of sleep, it’s quiet. Too quiet.

He makes his way down further below deck, into the hold. He needs rum- this seeing dead people business is doing his drinking habit no good. It’s not helping his sleeping schedule either, and the bags under his eyes have their own collection of cargo. It’s wet down here, thick with the smell of stagnant seawater and that particularly strong stench of aged alcohol. It’s dead still, not even the sound of water sloshing with the movement of the ship. The swinging light of the lantern casts flickering shadows, and his eye catches on one that looks a little more solid than it should be.

Madara grasps the lightsource as he passes and holds it up in front of his face as he approaches the inky silhouette. He’s almost within swords reach when it turns to him. “Madara.” He screams, a little choked, at the sight of what Hiruzen has become. Face hidden half behind a broken white mask, the cabin boy smiles at him. Or at least Madara  _ thinks _ it’s a smile under the growth of deep red coral that’s creeping up his face.

“You look… interesting.” He can’t say ‘well’, because he’s always been a mostly honest pirate. Painfully honest, but still. Hiruzen laughs, and it sends sea water trickling over his lips. “I’m alive. He’s been kind enough to take me in. Kind to all of us, surprisingly- quite unlike how you made him out to be.” Madara has a niggling idea of who he means, but he’s just  _ not _ going there.  _ There’s all sorts of trouble that way, and it’s just best avoided _ , he thinks. Madara turns toward the shelves, and finds them far too empty for his liking.

 

“So to what do I owe this visit? You here to see Kagami?” Hiruzen turns the masked side of his face to Madara, and the curling red lines on white suddenly look more like a monkey baring fangs than anything else.  _ ANBU _ , something whispers- which is impossible because ANBU  _ don’t exist _ . “I’m afraid that’s not the case. I’m here under orders from my Captain.”

Madara takes the proffered bottle out of force of habit, startling when Hiruzen moves to grasp the hand holding the lantern. The flame sputters when he drops it, but doesn’t go out. The Uchiha Captain tries to jerk his hand away at a cold, stinging,  _ slimy _ feeling against his palm- but Hiruzen holds him fast. “What are you-” “It will come to he who is Marked. My Captain sends you his greetings.” Their hands part with a wet squelch, and Madara gapes after his old crew mate as the man walks  _ right through the hull of his ship _ with a spray of sea water and the clatter of a few barnacles falling to the floor.

In the flickering light of the toppled lantern he can see the pulsing black mass on his bare palm -  _ I’m never sleeping without gloves on ever again _ . Then he’s sprinting out of the hold and up the stairs as the lamp is doused by a slosh of water. “UP! ALL OF YOU LAZY BASTARDS GET UP!!!” He tips his snoring sibling out of the hammock as he passes “UP UP UP! NOW!!!” The grumbling and groaning of his crew, his  _ family _ , doesn’t phase him because he’s already on deck at the helm.

“Aniki, what the FUCK!” Izuna is jelly legged with residual sleep, and Madara  _ doesn’t care _ . His brother reaches to place a hand on his shoulder, and frowns when it’s sidestepped. “What’s going on?” “Run.” The look of utter confusion that gets forces the elder to clarify. “Run. Land. Up the river. We need to go.” Shoulders sag and Izuna makes an acutely uncomfortable face. “By  _ need _ do you mean a passing need, a fleeting sort of fancy that we are all perfectly capable of ignoring?” Madara looks up from tugging on his gloves that Sasuke has brought at his Captains behest. “By  _ need _ I mean that if we  _ don’t  _ go, we’re all going to be  _ very _ dead  _ very _ soon.”

 

The storm that’s been chasing dissipates the instant they reach the shallower waters beyond the reef. The island of Uzushio is located almost in the centre of the Sea of Whirlpools, and Madara  _ hates _ that he’s had to come here with a  _ passion _ . He’s had no other choice. “You're pulling too hard!” “Well you're not pulling hard enough!” Kagami and Shisui stage whisper behind him as the boat bearing one half of the crew makes its way up the river between the thick jungle trees. Izuna is sitting just close enough that should some jungle creature decide to take an interest in the occupants of the little boat, he will be able to hide behind Madara within a moments notice. That means the Captain can also see how his First Mate slowly dies inside as his brain melts and runs out of his ears,  _ and it's not like he's using for anything other than to come up with ways to make Madaras’ life difficult _ . 

The journey up river seems to drag on for an eternity, as time is marked only by the hissed insults between Kagami and Shisui and the number of insects that attempt to eat Madara alive. By the time the deceivingly small hut on the edge of the swampy River comes into view, he is ready to scream. He  _ hates _ coming inland, it's  _ hot _ and so  _ humid _ he feels like he's breathing  _ soup _ . “Mind the boat.” He's barely within jumping distance when he leaps onto the pier, and the string of ‘mind the boats’ behind him ends with Shisuis’ crow telling what is very likely a scowling Sasuke to stay put.

Madara pushes the door open, entirely expecting the way it creaks as though it's about to fall of its hinges and crush him, and steps inside. The occupant of the little house is nowhere to be seen. Not that that is in any way a surprise when he can barely see three feet in front of him due to  _ man high  _ piles of  _ unidentifiable clutter _ that take up almost all available space. It is probably meticulously ordered with each and everything in its place, but that order is known only to the owner. Madara treads carefully, if only because he is concerned that falling into them may actually send him to some obscure parallel universe where he and Hashirama actually live in the same town.

“Oi! Where are you, I have something important to tell you!” There's the rustle of a beaded curtain before- “Are you finally going to live as a tobacco farmer on some forgotten island? I doubt anything could be more important to me than the knowledge that I will never hear your half drowned donkey sounding voice for the rest of all time.” The speaker weaves gracefully toward them between piles of junk, sounding for all the world as though the last words are the Kings decree and not vicious slander of his person. Madara inches his way past one last tower of garbage to come face to face with a rather short and stunningly beautiful woman with skin the color of beach sand and hair like a sunset. “I see you finally took your head out of your ass enough to notice that Tobirama is actually very much alive as immortal Captain of the Flying Thunder God.” Her face manages to be as impassive as a granite monument all while  _ laughing hysterically _ at him, and Madara  _ hates _ Uzumaki Mito.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how often I'll update. A wizard is never late, little hobbits.  
> Let me know what you think.


End file.
